Muggle in Paradise
by Octavia Lily
Summary: Stumbling into another world...a disillusioned, bored muggle ends up with slightly more excitement than she bargained for. Does she have the wits and guts to survive there?
1. Crossing Over

**Author's Note: **Some people may believe that what happens at the end of this chapter is not possible. I promise it will be explained in later chapters.

Please, please, please do not mistake this character for a Mary-Sue. I tried to make her flawed and as much unlike a Mary-Sue as possible. I don't even describe her hair or eye colour. I've had this story in my mind forever, and I don't care about who's going to be paired with who. I care about telling a good story here: nothing more.

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She stood straight and still on Platform Ten, holding her suitcase in front of her with both hands. 

Few people spared her the curious glance reserved for those waiting with you for public transportation. Those standing close may have noted that she was certainly younger than thirty, and that her gaze lingered on things in an odd, fixed way, but little else about her was worth a second glance.

Her eyes were too tired for her age. The train leaving from Platform Nine, opposite, made her winter coat heave around her ankles. Her pupils dilated as they trailed in a sparrow's wake, following its flight, wondering where it was going. 

The tiny bird flew up and up and up and out of sight, a speck of russet gone. She examined her sleeve. It was dark brown. She'd be the same color in the air if she could fly.

_If I could fly_. Her hands gave a tiny tremble.

Her name was Natasha Shiloh, and she was waiting to leave her life behind. The train was late, but she was patient. She'd already waited a long time. There was no hurry.

She had all the time in the world. 

Somehow, despite the huge turn her life was about to take, she felt quite calm. Wherever she went, she knew it would be the same as it had always been. Satisfying without any real beauty or grace. Just crude simple living, day after day. Rainy days and blank stares, soggy cereal in the morning and trying to please people she didn't like in the afternoon. She wasn't very good with people; she had enough trouble trying to decipher herself.

Newsflash: _Woman Born Without Personality, Scientists Baffled._

Who knew? She could be the first. Perhaps it was because she didn't know anything worth caring about. There had to be beauty and adventure somewhere, like there was in fiction. Perhaps it was there whenever she was absent. 

There was a tap on her shoulder. "The train's been delayed."

She turned; it was a pudgy man in a uniform. "Oh?" she said dully. "For how long?"

"It'll take as long as it takes," he said, already strolling off.

_What a redundant answer. _Natasha was not at all daunted by the delay. She made her way back down the platform to the seats at the other end, lugging her suitcase, occasionally swapping her carrying hand, and sat down.

_What's the use of leaving? Why AM I leaving? Do I really think I'm going to find anything different? Anything more interesting? _

Natasha wondered what it was like to be obsessed with something. She wished there was something she wanted so badly she was willing to devote all her time to getting it or experiencing it. Nowadays she couldn't be bothered about anything.

_I need a good book._

Restless, she stood up and paced, wanting the train to come just for a change of scenery. The noise around her seemed intrusive. She could hear snatches of conversation, tiny snippets of lives of people she'd never meet. Every step jarred her bones. Frustration creased her forehead.

_Wonderful. Have a fit of depression in King's Cross._

"If you'd just listen…"

"Daniel, did we pick up the lagers?"

"Next train to…"

"Ron, can you pass me Hedwig's cage?"

"I'm SORRY, I'm not trading my Armando Dippet, all right? I only have one. I got it in my last chocolate frog and it was an exciting moment, let me tell you."

"Put those AWAY, Ron. Wait until you get on the train."

_These conversations are getting more bizarre by the minute._ She looked up to see who had spoken. 

There was a small group moving at a snail's pace towards the platform. She watched them. It seemed to be a family. They were all similar looking – no, all except for one boy with startlingly black hair amidst the fray of red locks. Perhaps he was a friend of the boy he was walking next to. They had out handfuls of what she supposed were trading cards, and they obviously weren't looking where they were going. As the group drew just about level with her seat, the gangly boy who had been insisting on keeping one of his cards tripped over his own feet and fell hard.

The cards went everywhere. Boosted by the wind, a few flew towards her. There were yells from the rest of the group. 

They were so close she automatically bent and scooped a pile of them into her hand, offering them to the boy. "Here you go."

"Thank you very much," the woman swooped up and snatched the cards before Natasha could even see what was on them, or what an 'Armando Dippet' was. The woman seemed almost pensive around her, as one would treat a homeless person or someone dressed in odd clothing. "We were in a hurry, you see."

Natasha stooped to help the boy up. "I love chocolate frogs. They're my favorite sweet," she said earnestly, imagining the chocolate animals her mother had given her as a child. Evidently they only made frogs now, for some reason. She tried not to seem too desperate to converse. Truth be told, she hadn't had a real conversation with anyone in weeks. 

She glanced desperately around for something else to make a topic out of. She noticed a fold of clothing hanging out of a suitcase. It bore some kind of school emblem on it – an 'H' surrounded by animal pictures, and a motto in Latin. "Oh, you're heading off to the school, I see."

The woman's face brightened with some kind of recognition. She had a beautiful smile. "Oh! Yes, I'm just seeing my Ron and Ginny, and Ron's friend Harry off – both in their fifth year at Hogwarts now, Ginny's in fourth, you know. Molly Weasley - pleased to meet you. I'm so sorry, I mistook you for a muggle at first – that's why I snatched the cards."

Natasha blinked. _Muggle? Hogwarts?_ _Hogwarts must be the name of the school, I suppose – how ridiculous! But what on earth is a muggle? And why did she mistake me for one?_

Deciding against asking for fear of sounding ignorant – she felt it was some kind of new word she didn't know about – she smiled back and shook her head. "That's fine. In fact, I was just about to catch the train as well."

"You're catching the Hogwarts train?" the black-haired boy – Harry – said. "Are you a new teacher?"

Natasha kept her expression one of polite interest. _There's a specific train for people going to the school? I've never even heard of it._

Who WERE these people? And why had she never heard of a school that had an entire train allocated to it? But through her puzzlement was a ray of slow interest, creeping excitement. This was the first interesting thing to happen to her in months. What was this school like? Was it a private school? She was afraid of asking too many questions – obviously they were secretive about this school, for some reason. Better be shrewd.

She realized that she was actually considering lying. She was actually considering pretending that she was a teacher, just to go on this train, to see this Hogwarts. Perhaps it was a special government school, for people training to be spies. One wild theory after another came to her. She hadn't been so imaginative in…in forever. Giddy excitement and she was suddenly speaking without even realizing what she was saying.

"Yes," she said. "Yes, I'm a new teacher. My name's Natasha Shiloh – pleased to meet you too."

There was a rumble of approval from the four, even the seemingly shy girl. They ate her lie up without protest. 

"YES! Snape's out of the running for another year!" Ron and Harry grinned widely at each other, sharing some secret delight. 

"I didn't think they'd managed to get anyone for Defense Against the Dark Arts this year," Harry said, nodding his approval at her. "What a relief. Snape for two classes; I'd be driven insane."

"Sssh, boys," Mrs. Weasley's bright smile wavered. "You don't want to insult another teacher in front of Professor Shiloh, do you? You have taken the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, I assume?"

_I'd be taking the How to Eat Paper class if that's what you had assumed, _thought Natasha, chuckling mentally. "Yes, I have."

"Good luck," said the woman jovially. "None of the past staff have had any luck at all, they all seem to become…well…incapacitated before the year is out."

If Natasha really had taken the job, she would have been slightly unnerved by that statement. As it happened, she didn't plan to take this whatever-it-was class at all. For Heaven's sake, she wasn't qualified to teach anyone. She had barely passed her School Certificate, and had procrastinated going to University for the past two years. She planned to go to the school, pretend to be a parent visiting, or some such excuse – she seemed to have gotten along fairly well on excuses so far – and then get out before anyone realised the clash of lies. 

She felt so alive. She was finally doing something _interesting, _something out of the ordinary. Something that could occupy her absent thoughts.

"Oh dear, I've completely forgotten about the time," Molly Weasley said, flustered. "Well – you'd all better catch that train. Through the barrier now, Ron, Harry…" she hugged each of them in turn. Ron's ears turned red. "Come off it, Mum."

"Write to me whenever you like," she said, ignoring her son's remark. "Lovely to meet you…Ron, Harry, let Professor Shiloh through the barrier first."

Confronted with the unknown, Natasha tried to think fast. "No, no. After you. I insist."

She watched the two boys carefully. What 'barrier' did they mean? And why were they…?

The boys suddenly broke into a run, trolleys humming in front of them. The barrier between the platforms? These people were mad! They were going to crash! 

Both trolleys and both boys disappeared into the wall. Natasha's mouth dropped open out of pure reflex, and she quickly snapped it closed before Mrs. Weasley saw her.

This was way more out of the ordinary than she had thought.

There was only one explanation for it: She had gone insane. She had just seen two people disappear into a wall like ghosts. Surely this was where she'd be revealed to be one of these 'muggles'. She couldn't do what they just did. She couldn't. 

Her legs worked of their own accord. Her eyes fixed on the solid wall of bricks. With one hand she clutched her bag tightly, and walked briskly towards the barrier. 

She could feel Mrs Weasley's eyes on her. Her heart trilled in her chest, a drumbeat urging her on. The momentum pressed into her chest. She took in one last breath, closed her eyes and braced herself for impact…

And there was none.

Natasha Shiloh, a muggle, had crossed over.


	2. To Hogwarts

The Hogwarts Express trailed out of King's Cross, gradually picking up speed. 

There was an eager rhythm as the train moved, a vibrancy in pace and voice that could never be achieved by normal machinary. It was the first thing Natasha noticed when the door slid shut behind her. She stood still for a moment, collecting her thoughts. 

"May I sit anywhere on the train?" she asked of Ron and Harry in front of her, "Or is there a separate compartment for teachers?"

"No, there isn't. Teachers don't usually take the train," Harry said. "I wouldn't sit down just anywhere, though, there are some people who won't…leave you alone, so to speak."

"You mean there are people that're downright annoying," Ron said flatly. "Like Malfoy. If not Malfoy, than Creevey. 'Oh, a new teacher! FLASH!' You'll be blinded."

Harry snorted, but seemed to struggle to remove the amusement from his expression. "Better Colin than Malfoy, Ron."

_Oh, a new teacher? Flash? _Natasha thought nervously. _I hope he's talking about a camera._

But after a moment of deliberation she assumed this was just usual student banter, and didn't comment. She had decided to ask a minimal number of questions, and take any more strange happenings, as there seemed to be many concerning these Hogwarts people, in her stride. 

Then again, walking through a wall into 'Platform 9 ¾' was enough strangeness for one day, she felt. Even though all this was making a lovely change from her usual day-to-day drone, whatever it was. Perhaps this really was some bizarre anarchist organization, disguised as a school. 

"Alright," she said uncertainly, "I'll take any carriage recommendation you give me."

"Hermione will want to meet you," Harry said.

"Hermione?"

"Another friend of ours," Ron said, "All around know-it-all. But a _nice _one," he added quickly at Harry's look. "Plus, she's good around exam time…"

"Ron."

"Joke, mate." Grin fading, Ron suddenly gave his own cheek a light slap. "Hang on, I'm supposed to be…you know, in the Prefects' Carriage, and all that jazz…" His ears pinkened. "Of course, I wouldn't mind sitting with you if you wanted…I could pretend to be supervising the carriage, or something…" 

Harry cracked a grin and waved him away. "Get out of here."

Ron squeezed past and hurried back down the corridor, leaving Natasha and Harry alone and slightly uncomfortable without Ron's keen conversational input. 

"Hermione'll be with the prefects too," Harry said. "I guess we'll just have to find a compartment on our own. There are two that haven't been full so far…shall we take a gamble?"

Natasha nodded, her eyes fixed on a strange mark she'd noticed on his forehead. She could see it now through his tousled black fringe. A scar, shaped like a bolt of lightning.

Harry noticed her gaze and frowned. "Yes. Er…" He watched her expectantly, seemingly waiting for her to say something.

Things like scars and tattoos had always fascinated Natasha. She quickly stopped staring, not wanting to be seen as rude – but she knew he'd noticed her fixed eyes. "That must have been a nasty cut, to leave a scar like that…how'd you get it?" she asked innocently.

His eyebrows shot down and up again, expression flickering from surprise to confusion. "You don't…you didn't…" he shook his head and turned around again. "Sorry. Never mind."

He kept shaking his head as he led the way down the corridor once more. 

_What's the matter with him? Maybe it's something personal..maybe I shouldn't have asked. _Natasha cursed mentally. Offending anyone around here was the last thing she wanted to do. "Sorry, I didn't mean to pry…"

"No, it's all right," Harry said, stopping at a sliding door. He looked at her puzzledly one last time, almost as curious as she had been a moment ago – but with a slight smile. "In fact, it's sort of refreshing."

_Refreshing? Curiouser and curiouser._

He slid open the door. The compartment had a few scattered occupants – two rather vacant-looking, hulking boys that glared at Harry on sight, a gaunt blonde girl with her nose buried in a magazine – 'The Quibbler' – and a tiny little boy who was fiddling around with an oversized camera.

The little boy looked up. "Oh! A new teacher!" He aimed the camera, and Natasha was almost blinded by the flash that followed.

"Come off it, Colin," Harry said sharply, and Colin immediately scooted over for them to sit down. 

 "I guess Ron might have done better in divination than he thought," he muttered, "even if he always said that it was a load of hogwash."

The girl opposite looked up from her book, fixing her bulbous eyes on them with an air of vacant calm. "Greetings, Harry. Back for another year, I see."

"Obviously," he said, but quietly. "Luna, this is…"

"The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. I know." 

Natasha wanted to ask how she knew, as there was obviously no way for her to have guessed – since she was not, in fact, going to be teaching at all. 

"My Aunt Sariane was thinking of applying for the position this year," Luna continued in her flat voice, "But my father needed her to accompany him on a trip to Yugoslavia to investigate the breeding grounds of the Crumple-Horned Snorkack. They migrate there, you know. Obviously, the trip was more important."

"Obviously," Harry echoed again. 

"You've said that word twice, Harry," Luna said dreamily. "You must understand that not everything is as obvious as you would have it seem."

Harry was leaning back by this time, watching her with a faintly elevated brow in the way someone would watch a boring show on the television – but at Luna's last comment he seemed to start a little. "No, it isn't," he agreed in a stronger tone, and Natasha could have sworn his eyes flickered towards her.

She quickly got a book out from her bag and opened it at a random page to avoid his searching gaze, immersing herself in reading one sentence over and over again, nodding as though it was the most fascinating thing in the world.


	3. Floating

By the time the Hogwarts Express ground to a halt, Natasha had to work hard to conceal her anxiety. Initial excitement was beginning to wear off, replaced gradually with some rambling emotion that kept repeating 'what-the-hell-am-I-doing.'

She stepped off the train with Harry, clutching handfuls of chocolate frogs that he had bought for her when she had feigned surprise at only having muggle money in her pockets.

"Well, I think I'll look for Ron and Hermione before they disappear on me," he said. "You have visited the castle, I suppose? So you'll know where to go?"

"Oh, sure," Natasha said automatically, "you go ahead."

Surely she could just follow everyone that was milling about, be inconspicuous. 

Harry disappeared out the train door and she followed him, stepping into the flush of people.

Natasha felt like a white king in an army of black pawns. They had all changed into the school uniform she had seen hanging out of the suitcase at King's Cross.

It was very like every other school uniform she had ever seen, aside from one rather unmissable detail: The long black robes over their school sweater, emblazoned with the school crest. Complete with hoods, even.

She found it bizarre that someone included, as part of a school uniform, a garment that was more associated with witches and druids than academics. Perhaps it was similar to the little cloaks university graduates wore to signify their area of expertise. She made this guess because on closer examination, there were splashes of colour in the drab monotone of the uniform.

Natasha herself had never been to university – of those years she had unpleasant memories of being so scatterbrained about jobs that she was in and out of them all the time. She had seen a prospectus, though, and remembered that each colour meant something. Definitely.

The colours were red, green, yellow and blue respectively on these uniforms, only those four she could see. Perhaps they signified what year the pupils were in, or something.

_No, they'll be house colours! The little blue badge Natasha had worn back in school to signify her house, Apollo, came back to her. _

_Gosh, that was a long time ago. All she could remember is that Apollo lost the house singing competition with a terrible rendition of "Summer of '69"._

_I never kept in touch with anyone from school. Then again, there was nobody to keep in touch with, so no guilt about lost friends. Ahaha. There were none._

She darted about the crowd, trying to look as though she knew where she was going. Perhaps there was a person of authority about she could ask, as the students might be suspicious if a teacher asked _them where to go. She felt she could lie more efficiently to an adult, as they were less critical than young people tended to be._

"Firs' years over here! FIRS' YEARS!"

The voice was deafening even over the hubbub of talk, and at first she thought it was someone with a megaphone – but there was no echo. Someone had one hell of a voice. She spun on her heel to find whoever was yelling – if they were looking to collect the first year students they had to be a teacher. 

But she couldn't just wander up, there had to be some way to…

Her eyes fell upon a tiny nymph of a girl standing seemingly bewildered in a large throng of young adults twice her size. Her school skirt reached almost to her socks so that only a small crescent of knee showed through. The robes were almost swallowing her whole. Natasha approached her with a brisk, welcoming air. 

"Hello. Are you a first-year?"

The girl nodded. 

"Do you know where to go?" _Easy as pie._

The girl shook her head. "Nan told me to look for Hagrid when I got off, but I don't know who that is."

Natasha nodded sagely. "Yes. Hagrid. Right. Let's go find Hagrid, shall we?"

_A man with a voice like that shouldn't be too hard to find, whoever he is._

The girl nodded again, mute once more. Natasha led her vaguely through the crowd, waiting for another yell to follow. "What's your name?" she said in an attempt to buy time. 

"Ophelia Parker. I had a grandmother named Ophelia. She named me."

"Not very original of her."

"No. But she had to name me in a hurry, because mum died giving birth to me."

Natasha faltered at that, went over a few sympathetic comments and decided they all sounded too mawkish. Instead she said, "I think Ophelia's a lovely name."

Ophelia frowned and her steps slowed. "It's okay," she said finally, "but it's not a very lucky name."

"Names are lucky? Or unlucky?" 

"Some are," she shrugged, "But I don't think there are any lucky names. There are only normal names and unlucky ones."

"And why would your name be…"

"Why are you wearing muggle…?"

They spoke at the same time and a roar cut them both off. "Firs' years…"

Both of them looked up sharply. "I think that's Hagrid," said Ophelia, peering through the forest of legs in front of her. Natasha, at head-level, couldn't see anything. 

"Where?" she asked. 

Ophelia crouched. "I can see his boots. Grandpa described them to me once. Like stitched-together animals."

Natasha's brow creased at the description, and she opened her mouth to ask another question – but no sound came. In front of her, over the heads and hoods, loomed a figure, an elephantine figure. A gargantuan figure. And it was humanoid.

Or at least some kind of bear-human hybrid. 

She had never seen a man as enormous in her life outside of the circus, and she was sure that even then it had just been one guy on another guy's shoulders under a big coat. This man was real – and they were about to talk to him. She purposely slowed by sheer weight of appearance. 

As they approached through the crowd, she thought vaguely that his beard would be great for concealing drugs at an airport. Any security guard that went in to look for any might never come out again. The fur overcoat he was wearing alone would house a hundred homeless orphans. 

_A battalion of moles must have gone into making that thing.   
The great man turned when he saw them and Natasha was guiltily relieved to see a warm smile creeping through his beard like a hairy sunrise. "Ah, is this a firs' year we 'ave here? What's yer name?" Definitely the same voice._

Ophelia strode forward, undaunted, and offered a tiny hand. "Ophelia Parker."

"Aye," seemingly pensive about a handshake, he offered three of his fingers for her to take, then noticed Natasha. "An' who migh' you be?"

"Professor Natasha Shiloh," she said without a beat's hesitation. "Defense Against the Dark Arts." _Whatever the hell that is. _

She hadn't counted the number of times she'd repeated her new titles on the train. It was the first time she'd done anything like that since repeating French verbs before her last exam at school. It didn't help that she hadn't passed that one.

"Oh?" Up shot the eyebrows like twin black hedgerows. "I didn' know Dumbledore had hired anyone, he told me he was givin' the job to Snape this year."

_Dumbledore. Sounds important. Remember that for later. Dumbledore is the man that supposedly hired you. Dumbledore. Dumbledore. Remember._

"I believe it was last-minute, yes," she replied, defensive ice creeping into her tone. "However, I don't believe Dumbledore is one to make rash decisions, so hopefully he's made the right choice." _A bluff, I do declare._

"Oh, o'course," Hagrid puffed up. "Never a wrong decision wi' Dumbledore. Great man. Great _wizard." A creaking nod._

She wasn't sure about what the word 'wizard' meant in the context. It seemed corny to use in that way. "Anyway, I've been told to help with the first years, seeing as I rode the train," she said. Lies were slipping off her tongue like ice cubes. It was so easy. A vomit of falsities, and everything was working so well. 

_Because you're taking advantage of their kindness and sincerity. Oh, shut up._

_ "That's good, I'd appreciate the help. They do get a bi' rowdy," Hagrid grinned – or at least she thought so. It was hard to tell what his expression was most of the time. The smiles were easier, though, because they always reached his eyes. "One of 'em always seems ter fall out of a boat on the way. I swear someone's gonna drown sooner or later."_

Ophelia lowered her eyes to the ground. Natasha folllowed her gaze, but she didn't seem to be looking at anything. There was no time to question her, though, because Hagrid was moving off with the crowd of milling first years. "Professor Shiloh, would'ya mind taking up the back?"

She herded the children along, nervous and excited, wondering where on earth they were going next. Hagrid had mentioned boats, so she supposed that that was the next part of their journey. And indeed soon they came to a dock where many little rowboats were tethered, hung with glowing lanterns. Natasha hadn't noticed it getting dark in her anxiety but the soft glowing lights woke her up to the fact.

There didn't seem to be any oars in the boats, and even if there were, how could children this young have the strength to row them?

Shaking her head in puzzlement, she got into a boat with Ophelia and a few others. The moment the last boy had stepped in, the boat shuddered to life and began to move. It made her heart leap. What on earth was happening?  
She tried not to look around too frantically as the boat began to glide off over the ink-watered lake. What was pulling the goddamn thing? _What was pulling it?_

She couldn't see any oars or ropes or strings. No poles or pulleys or gears.

So how?

"How?" she whispered, her lips moving soundlessly in the dark when the word was gone, moving in wonderment. The children seemed unconcerned. They were talking, oblivious. Ophelia wasn't joining the conversation. She was staring into the water, her sprightly mood of before sapped.

Unable to contain her curiosity, Natasha, trying to look casual, slipped a hand beneath the water at the front of the boat, pushed it underneath the hull and rubbed it about for as long as she could stand; she felt like it was piercing her skin.

Nothing. No underwater mechanism. She had thought it was similar to a log flume at first. And if it was, her hand might be crushed. She pulled it out. 

_Nothing. She cast her gaze across the lake to where Hagrid was loading the last of the children into the boats, and watched them as they drew away. Everything seemed to blend into the dark, only barely illuminated by the pale orange of the lights. Chips of white highlighted the water, matching the gloss of Ophelia's hair and the reflection of her wristwatch. She listened to the echoing creak as Hagrid lowered himself into the last boat on his own. _

There was a sudden intake of breath from the children opposite her. "Oooh!" one little girl breathed. "Look! I can see it! I can see Hogwarts!"

"So can I!" said a boy. "I saw it before you, though. I swear I did."

Ophelia turned and Natasha saw her eyes widen and begin to glow. There was a shadow in her pupils – tall and strong, a glorious straight edge. The reflection of a building across the lake. 

Natasha knew that if she turned, she'd see it.  

But she paused. It was a moment, a turning-point, and despite her lack of knowledge about everything in general, she knew that if the turned to see this Hogwarts there would be no turning back the other way. She didn't think it in words, she felt it in an organ – maybe her heart or her stomach – just some tiny piece of intuition telling her that this was it. An action and she was gone.

Natasha turned, her throat contracting, and saw Hogwarts.

It towered over the trees rimming the lake and seemed to lean over them, circling above them in as perfect an arch as the velveteen sky, clear tonight, with hardly any stars to light it. Her eyes flashed from one detail to the other – a turret, a lighted window, a silver steeple – before she could take it in in its entirety.

It seemed to leap towards her, to envelop her, even as a night shadow of its true self. 

She had never wished more for day. But she could see it well enough. Well enough to bask in the very sight of it. She gripped the side of the boat. Her eyes watered, though they were on fire. Her hands trembled like they did whenever she saw a bird flying high.

And for a place she'd never even seen. 

But she didn't need to have seen it. It had always been there, just a feeling inside her with no shape or physicality. It was that place everyone wants to go. That place people might say is fantasy. _And fantasy means unreal. But this is real. This is a real place and I'm seeing it right now. A dreamworld._

So this was Hogwarts.

_A secret school, boats that move without motor or sails, chocolate frogs and robes._

_People called Hagrid and Harry and Hermione._

It was the strangest thing the world had ever given her. And it was also the most beautiful. So much so that she felt that if she looked at it any longer, her heart might burst and run down through her body to her feet. 

_That place everyone wants to go. That…fantasy world. _

Awe consumed her and something snapped. Things tied together in her mind and began to work, began to make sense in a new way, as she looked at the Castle. 

Natasha tasted magic.


End file.
